Nightshift: Niall One Shot
by TheBeeper
Summary: Niall is working a dead end job when he meets a mysterious stranger


"OOOOOOH MY GOD!"  
The Walmart employee looked up from the shelves of cheaply made products.  
"WHAT THE FUCK!"  
It wasn't unusual to hear such outbursts in the store, especially at this hour, but something about the voice caught his attention.  
"OH MY GOD!"  
The employee walked down the center aisle, searching for the source of such emphatic protestations. He'd put on a fake smile, ask them to tone it down a bit, ask if they needed any help finding anything. At least it was a small diversion from the endless tedium of stocking the shelves. He hated working overnight.  
"SERIOUSLY, THOUGH, WHERE IS NIALL?! THIS IS BULLSHIT!"  
His pace quickened a bit. It wasn't unusual for people to yell, but it was unusual for them to yell his name.

"WHAT IS THIS SHIT!"  
The volume increased as Niall approached one of the temporary Christmas trinket aisles. Poking his head around the corner, he locked eyes with a roguish vision in a trenchcoat. He felt his heart sputter and his words did the same.  
"Uh...sir...c-could...you keep it...down?" His cheeks felt hot.  
The gentleman stared him down with huge hazel eyes. He looked shocked.  
"_Niall?" _he asked, wide eyed. _"LIKE THE ACTUAL NIALL?"_

And he was, indeed, the actual Niall. The genuine article. Niall had left One Direction after a disastrous falling out with a manager. The mayhem cost him his reputation, his job, his pride, and had left him with a six inch scar across his chest from a particularly nasty encounter with the business end of a thermal lance. He couldn't stay in the British Isles. In fact, he couldn't stay anywhere that was anywhere, so in October, he packed up what little was of value of him and moved to a tiny town in Arizona, incognito. No one would look for him here, and working in a Walmart offered him an extra layer of protection. If someone did recognize him, they'd dismiss the sighting as a mere resemblance. Why would _the _Niall Horan be working in a backwater Walmart?  
It was nights like tonight, stocking shelves and peeling gum off the floor that he asked himself the same question.

The boy in the trenchcoat was still staring. A box of press on nails was lying at his feet. "They...they...don't...they don't have your face on any of these..." he stammered, gesturing down at the packages of One Direction stick-on nails lying at his feet. The company had decided to continue production of band merchandise, trying to stave off the inevitable scandal of the band's dissolution as long as possible.

Niall felt his face crack into an involuntary smile. God, this boy was attractive. And he couldn't help but feel flattered that his absence on a stocking stuffer had made this kid so angry.  
"Yeah, I guess those ones went out of stock," Niall said.  
"Well, that doesn't surprise me" the boy said, his composure regained.  
"I can check in the back for you, we might have some left if you want them that much."  
"That'd be...great."  
"What's your name?", Niall asked.  
"Max," said the boy,

And it was like feeling the thermal lance all over again.

* * *

_What the hell just happened? _He walked briskly into the stockroom. He had absolutely no clue where he was going. For a moment he forgot why he was even there. Suddenly, a rock of a thought dropped to the bottom of his brain. What if he walked back out there an Max was gone? He didn't know why (he had only just met this boy!), but he felt that if that happened, it would make this tiny town feel emptier than it already did.

He ran out of the stockroom without even bothering to look for the nails. In an instant he was back in the aisle.

Max was still there. And then, in the least calculated, least thought-through, most impulsive instant of his life, he grabbed Max's face with his lanky hands and kissed him. The trenchcoated boy's hands were plastered to his sides, but as soon as Niall regained his sanity and pulled his lips away, Max's hands shot out at him like a striking snake and brought their faces together again.

The moment lasted both a millisecond and an entire lifetime. Their eyes met, and the intentions were clear as crystal. Niall knew what he had to do.  
Grabbing Max's smooth hand, he ran out of the aisle. Weaving through the displays, they ran for what seemed like ages. Finally they came to a sudden halt in the corner of the bakery. There was no one there, the bakery workers rarely pulled overnight shifts.

Niall's head felt fuzzy. In a blur of lust, he slammed Max up against a display of day old, discount buns and reached for some fresh ones of his own. Max let out a soft groan into Niall's mouth. Suddenly, Max grabbed him and flipped him around, knocking what few Kaiser rolls where hanging precariously on the shelf to the floor. Niall's hands wandered the boy's tempting physique, finding their way to the impressive French loaf rising in the oven of Max's stylish trousers. Niall reached for the zipper of the pants and nearly broke the damn thing as he yanked it down. He gave Max another intense kiss, pushing his tongue into the back of his mouth, before breaking away and sliding to his knees.

He was used to playing the guitar, but now he found himself playing an entirely new instrument. Enveloping his velvet lips around Max's breadstick, he played the gentlemen in the trench like a living instrument. Every gesture of tongue and even of teeth produced a new sound, an increasingly loud crescendo.  
Music to Niall's ears.  
But just as the song was about to reach it's triumphant chorus, Niall pulled himself away, quickly standing up to meet the eyes of the stranger, which where equal parts ecstasy and anger. "Oh god, Niall, don't do that, please..." Max said desperately.  
Without a word, Niall threw him to the floor, flipping him over and in the process toppling a display and sending donuts and danishes skittering and sliding every which way onto the linoleum.

They both froze. Niall was sure his manager would find him stocking a shelf he shouldn't be, so to speak. Instead, there was just a crisp silence. Relieved, he let out a breath and looked at Max. The anticipation was palpable in his hazel eyes.  
Stripping his own khakis off, Niall positioned himself behind the sweetest donut hole he would ever find in this godforsaken grocery department. Despite himself, he entered gently. How he wanted to just slam the filling out of this eclair, but he remembered that the best pastries don't happen all at once. They take a little time.

But they couldn't take forever. Niall could not control himself any longer. He slammed his cannocini between Max's soft cinnamon buns. Every thrust made him a little more grateful he had taken this shift.  
"Oh god, OH MY GOD OH MY GOD" Max shouted, bringing a chuckle to Niall as he remembered the piles of press on nails lying at this boy's feet not long before.  
Icing spilled on the floor.

Rolling off, Niall collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily, as did Max. The flourescent lights above were hazy. A harsh slap of reality came in the form of footsteps at the end of the dairy display. Jumping to his feet, Niall pulled his trousers back on. Max had already done so. Pulling him up, Niall glanced over to the customer perusing the cheese, and seeing that he wasn't looking, planted a heated kiss on Max's parted lips. He had to get back to work before anyone else showed up.

"So..." said Max, "when do you get off?"

Turning to walk out of the bakery, he threw a baby blue glance at the hazel-eyed man and said,

"I already did."


End file.
